# Temple of Wisdom The temple stands where silence dwells, where stone and shadow intertwine, and footsteps fade on ancient floors worn smooth by centuries of prayer. No golden god sits high above— only emptiness, patient and vast, a room prepared for those who come with questions burning in their chest. The walls have heard ten thousand names whispered in the dark, each one a seeker moving through the gloom, fingers brushing against wonder. Here, in this hush, a voice emerges— not from the altar, not from sky, but from the space between the self and all that stretches beyond knowing. The wise ones say: the temple teaches by what it does not say, by what it lets fall away— pride, certainty, the need to know. So come, sit in the gathering dusk. Listen to the bells that ring in the chambers of your own becoming. The answer, ancient as stone, waits.

As I turned, amazed,
life rolled past me.
Like a stage set shifting—
from night to day, day to night again.
There were sunrises behind my eyelids,
then sunsets in pupils that wouldn't sleep,
and the days of mottled grey flew away,
like sparrows beneath my window, beyond.

What did my eyes not witness?
Rays, sky, dreams, children's laughter,
betrayals and sorrows I came to know,
and rains fell, rainbows shone within them.

My ears heard everything—
verse and song and words of love,
insults...crude, mockery for a swollen heart—
a torrent of sound bore down on me.

My hands held nothing—
a ring, a child in my lap, soft palms...
they caressed and were caressed,
yet still bore the marks of wounds.

Where did my feet carry me?
Wherever I went, others were born,
in countless directions they struck the pavement,
my footsteps—hurried and hushed.
My soul, both sinful and good,
scattered, gathered piece by piece...
love, hope, faith...and I understood
where my only happiness dwells:
in a quiet home, in children's eyes,
in the hand of the beloved beside me,
in a beautiful song for a true friend,
in hope for tomorrow,
in Hope that will not perish,
in that Love with pierced hands,
who paved our passage to the universe,
and opened the Creator's heart to love...

Oh my God, I have endured so much,
and how much remains, you know,
but please, in this wilderness of living,
let the good still blossom in my soul...
The days slip away ceaselessly,
my hair turns silver, but there—
in that deep place, my hidden
wisdom has built its temple.